"No. That is positively forbidden."
"Agnes," continued Calvin, "you must know I love you!"
Agnes sank to her seat again with a look of resignation.
"Calvin," she said, "this is not the time. I am not the person for such remarks. I have just risen from my knees; my eyes are not in this world."
"You will be turning nun if this continues."
"I am in God's hands," said Agnes. "Yet the hour is dark with me."
"Agnes, let me lift some of your burden upon myself. You don't hate me?"
"No. I wish you every happiness, Calvin."
"Is there nothing you long for—nothing earthly and within the compass of possibility?"
"Yes, yes!" Agnes arose and walked across the floor almost unconsciously, with the palms of her hands held high together above her head. As she walked to and fro the theological student perceived a change so extraordinary in her appearance since his last visit that he measured her in his cool, worldly gaze as a butcher would compute the weight of a cow on chance reckoning.